When Jesus hears that John has been arrested, He withdraws to Galilee—not out of fear, but into purpose. He steps into a region considered spiritually dim, a place Isaiah once described as “people sitting in darkness.” And it’s there, in the ordinary rhythms of fishing villages, that the light of God begins to shine. Jesus doesn’t begin His ministry in Jerusalem’s temple courts or among the religious elite. He begins among people who are working, mending nets, tending to daily life. His first sermon is simple and urgent: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Not a threat, but an invitation. Not a burden, but a promise. God is drawing close. Then comes the call. He sees Simon and Andrew. He sees James and John. He sees them before they ever see Him. And He speaks the words that have echoed through centuries: “Follow me.” There is no theological exam. No spiritual résumé. No prerequisites. Just a call and a promise: “Follow me… and I will make you.” Jesus doesn’t ask them to become something before they follow. He promises to shape them as they walk with Him. And they respond immediately. Not because they fully understand, but because something in His voice awakens hope. Something in His presence stirs courage. Something in His invitation feels like life. This passage reminds us that discipleship begins not with our ability, but with Christ’s initiative. It grows not through our perfection, but through His forming grace. And it continues as we keep stepping toward the One who still walks into ordinary places and calls ordinary people to extraordinary purpose. Where This Meets Us Today • Jesus still comes to us in the middle of our routines. • He still calls us before we feel ready. • He still promises to shape us into people who carry His light into dark places. • And He still invites us to trust that His presence is enough for the journey ahead. For congregations longing for stability, for individuals seeking direction, for communities yearning for hope—this passage is a reminder that Christ’s call is not abstract. It is personal, present, and filled with promise. Prayer Lord Jesus, You come to us in the midst of our everyday lives and speak words of invitation and hope. Give us ears to hear Your call and hearts willing to follow. Shape us into people who carry Your light into the places that feel shadowed or forgotten. Strengthen us to trust that You will make us into what You need us to be. And as we walk with You, let our lives reflect the nearness of Your kingdom. Amen.

There are moments in Scripture when everything slows down—moments when a single sentence becomes a doorway into the heart of God. John the Baptist’s declaration is one of those moments. He doesn’t say, “Look, there’s Jesus,” or “Here comes the Messiah.” He says, “Behold.” Behold is an invitation to stop. To pay attention. To see differently. Seeing Jesus for Who He Truly Is John doesn’t point to Jesus as a teacher, a miracle worker, or a moral example, though He is all of those things. John points to Him as the Lamb of God, the One who carries what we cannot carry, heals what we cannot heal, and restores what we cannot restore. This is not a God who waits for us to get our act together. This is a God who steps into our world, our mess, our shadows, and says, “I’ll take that.” The First Steps of Discipleship When the two disciples hear John’s words, they follow Jesus. But they don’t know what to say. When Jesus turns and asks, “What are you looking for?” they respond with the awkward, honest question of seekers everywhere: “Where are you staying?” It’s as if they’re saying, “We don’t know what we want… but we know we want to be near You.” And Jesus answers with the simplest, most gracious invitation in the Gospel: “Come and see.” Discipleship begins not with certainty, but with curiosity. Not with perfect faith, but with a willingness to take a step. Not with knowing everything about Jesus, but with wanting to be close to Him. Transformation Begins with Encounter Andrew spends one day with Jesus and immediately becomes a witness. He runs to his brother and says, “We have found the Messiah.” One encounter becomes a calling. One moment of seeing becomes a life of following. One invitation becomes a mission. Reflection Where is Jesus saying to you, “Come and see” today? What part of your life is He inviting you to bring into His light? What step—small or large—is He nudging you to take? You don’t need to have all the answers. You don’t need to know the whole path. You simply need to begin. Prayer Lord Jesus, open my eyes to behold You as the Lamb of God— the One who carries my burdens, heals my wounds, and calls me into new life. Give me the courage to follow Your invitation to come and see, to walk with You, and to share Your love with others. Amen.

The Jordan River scene is one of the most quietly astonishing moments in all of Scripture. Jesus—sinless, radiant with divine purpose—steps into the muddy water and asks John to baptize Him. John is bewildered. We would be too. Everything in us wants to say, “Lord, this is backwards.” But Jesus answers with a phrase that still reshapes discipleship today: “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” A Savior Who Stands With Us Jesus doesn’t need baptism for repentance. He steps into the water to stand with humanity—fully, humbly, without distance or hesitation. Before He preaches a sermon, heals a wound, or calls a disciple, He chooses solidarity. This is the heart of the incarnation: God does not save from a distance. God steps into the water with us. A Moment of Revelation As Jesus rises from the water, the heavens open, the Spirit descends like a dove, and the Father’s voice speaks words every human heart longs to hear: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Before Jesus performs a single miracle, before He teaches the crowds, before He goes to the cross—He is named Beloved. Identity comes before activity. Grace comes before mission. Belovedness comes before obedience. A Word for Us Today In our own baptisms—whether we remember them or not—we are swept into this same truth. God’s first word over us is not “Do better,” “Try harder,” or “Earn this.” God’s first word is: You are mine. You are beloved. I delight in you. And that identity becomes the foundation for everything else: • When ministry feels heavy, we return to belovedness. • When we feel unqualified, we remember John’s surprise—and Jesus’ reassurance. • When we walk with those who suffer, we remember the God who steps into the water with us. • When we face uncertainty, we remember the Spirit who descends gently, faithfully, without fail. A Closing Prayer Holy God, As Jesus stepped into the Jordan, step into our lives again today. Remind us that we are your beloved children, not because of what we have done, but because of who You are. Let Your Spirit rest upon us, renewing our courage, deepening our compassion, and sending us into the world with the quiet confidence that we do not walk alone. Amen.

John opens his Gospel not with a manger, shepherds, or angels, but with eternity. Before creation stirred, before light first broke across the waters, the Word already was. John wants us to see Jesus not simply as a teacher or healer, but as the eternal Life of God stepping into our world. The Light That Shines John tells us that the Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it. This is not just poetic language—it is a promise. Darkness is real: grief, fear, uncertainty, sin, division. But darkness does not get the final word. Christ does. Every time we feel overwhelmed, this passage reminds us that the Light still shines— not because we are strong, but because He is present. The Word Made Flesh Perhaps the most astonishing line in all of Scripture is this: “The Word became flesh and lived among us.” God did not shout salvation from a distance. He came close. He took on our skin, our limitations, our vulnerability. He walked our roads, felt our sorrows, and shared our joys. This means that nothing in our lives is too ordinary or too broken for God to enter. Christ meets us not only in sanctuaries, but in kitchens, hospital rooms, quiet worries, and daily routines. He is Emmanuel—God with us. Grace Upon Grace John says that from Christ’s fullness we have all received grace upon grace. Not a single drop of grace, but wave after wave. Grace that forgives. Grace that restores. Grace that strengthens. Grace that keeps coming even when we falter. In a world that often measures worth by performance, Jesus offers abundance— not because we earn it, but because He is generous. Children of God John also tells us that all who receive Christ are given the power to become children of God. This is not a title we achieve; it is a gift we receive. We belong. We are held. We are known. In Christ, our identity is not shaped by our failures or successes, but by God’s love. A Prayer Word of Life, You shine in our darkness and dwell in our humanity. Let Your light guide our steps today. Let Your grace renew our hearts. And let Your presence remind us that we are Your beloved children. Amen.

Beloved Maple Grove family, Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus Christ, the One whose light no darkness can overcome. As we celebrate this holy season, Teri and I give thanks for each of you and for the joy of sharing life and ministry together. This year, the words of the prophet Isaiah have rested deeply on our hearts: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.” (Isaiah 9:2) In a world that still knows shadows—uncertainty, grief, division, and weariness—Christ comes again with a light that is steady, gentle, and unshakeable. We have seen that light shining here at Maple Grove. In your compassion for one another. In your generosity toward neighbors in need. In your faithfulness in worship and service. In the quiet, everyday acts of kindness that reveal Christ’s presence among us. As we gather around the manger this Christmas, we remember that God chose to come close—close enough to be held, close enough to share our joys and sorrows, close enough to guide us into a new way of living. Matthew reminds us of this promise: “They shall call him Emmanuel,” which means, “God with us.” (Matthew 1:23) Not God above us. Not God far from us. But God with us—here, now, and always. Teri and I are grateful beyond words for the privilege of serving alongside you. Your welcome, your prayers, your partnership, and your love have been gifts to us in this first season together. We look forward to the year ahead with hope, trusting that the same God who guided the Holy Family will guide us as well. May the peace of Christ fill your homes, may His joy strengthen your spirits, and may His love surround you and those you hold dear. With Christmas blessings and deep gratitude, Pastor John & Teri

Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth is not wrapped in sentimentality or ease. It begins with confusion, fear, and the unraveling of expectations. Joseph discovers that Mary is pregnant, and the future he imagined collapses in an instant. Yet it is precisely in this moment of uncertainty that God draws near. Joseph’s story reminds us that the work of God often begins where our understanding ends. He is described as a “righteous man,” but his righteousness is not rigid or self-protective. It is compassionate. Even before the angel speaks, Joseph chooses mercy. And when the angel does speak, Joseph chooses obedience. He steps into a future he cannot fully see, trusting a God who is already at work. The heart of this passage is the name: Jesus—“for he will save his people from their sins.” And the promise: Emmanuel—“God with us.” These two truths hold us together in every season of life. Jesus saves. Emmanuel stays. In Joseph’s obedience, we see a model for our own discipleship. Faith is rarely about having all the answers. It is about trusting the One who is with us. Joseph wakes from his dream and does what God asks. No fanfare. No speeches. Just quiet, steady faithfulness. As Advent draws us toward Christmas, this passage invites us to rest in the God who comes close. Not a distant deity, but Emmanuel—God in the midst of our questions, our griefs, our hopes, and our ordinary days. The God who enters the world through vulnerability and invites us to follow with courage. Reflection: Where in your life is God inviting you to trust Him the way Joseph did—quietly, faithfully, even without full understanding? Prayer: Lord Jesus, You are our Savior and our Emmanuel. In moments of uncertainty, help us trust as Joseph trusted. In seasons of waiting, help us listen for Your voice. And in all things, help us remember that You are with us— now and always. Amen.

Reflection John the Baptist, the fiery prophet who prepared the way for Jesus, now sits in prison. His boldness has cost him his freedom, and in the darkness of confinement, doubt creeps in. He sends his disciples to ask Jesus directly: Are you really the Messiah? Jesus’ response is not a simple “yes” or “no.” Instead, He points to the evidence of God’s kingdom breaking into the world: • The blind see. • The lame walk. • Lepers are cleansed. • The deaf hear. • The dead are raised. • The poor receive good news. Jesus reminds John—and us—that the Messiah’s identity is revealed not in titles but in transformed lives. The kingdom is known by its fruits. Then Jesus turns to the crowd and honors John: Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist. Yet He adds that even the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John. This is not to diminish John but to highlight the radical grace of God: entrance into the kingdom is not about status or achievement but about belonging to Christ. Application • Faith in the midst of doubt: Even the greatest prophet wrestled with uncertainty. Doubt is not failure—it can be the doorway to deeper faith when we bring our questions to Jesus. • Look for the evidence of God’s work: Jesus points us to the signs of life, healing, and hope. Where do you see God’s kingdom breaking in around you? • Kingdom identity: Our worth is not measured by comparison but by our place in God’s family. Even the “least” is cherished and empowered in Christ. Prayer Lord Jesus, when doubts arise in our hearts, remind us of Your works of grace. Open our eyes to see the signs of Your kingdom in our midst—the healing, the hope, the good news. Thank You for welcoming us into Your family, not because of our greatness, but because of Your love. Strengthen us to live as witnesses of Your kingdom today. Amen.

Reflection John the Baptist bursts onto the Advent scene like a prophet of old, clothed in camel’s hair, eating locusts and wild honey, crying out in the wilderness. His message is urgent: repent, for God’s kingdom is near. • Preparation: Advent is not only about waiting—it is about preparing. John calls us to clear away the clutter of sin and distraction so that our hearts are ready for Christ. • Repentance: Repentance is more than regret; it is turning around, reorienting our lives toward God’s mercy and justice. • Fruitfulness: John warns against empty religiosity. True repentance bears fruit—acts of compassion, generosity, and justice that reflect God’s kingdom. • Judgment and Hope: His imagery of the axe at the root and the winnowing fork is sobering. Yet it is also hopeful: God is purifying, refining, and making all things new. Application • Examine Your Heart: Advent invites us to pause and ask: What needs turning around in my life? • Bear Fruit: Let repentance show in tangible ways—kindness to a neighbor, forgiveness offered, generosity shared. • Live Ready: John’s urgency reminds us that Christ’s coming is not someday—it is always near. Live each day as if the kingdom is breaking in now. Prayer God of the wilderness and the manger, Through John’s voice You call us to repent and prepare. Turn our hearts toward You, that we may bear fruit worthy of Your kingdom. Refine us with Your Spirit’s fire, and make us ready to welcome Christ with joy, humility, and hope. Amen.

Advent is a season of waiting, but not passive waiting—it is active, hopeful, and watchful. In Matthew 24:36–44, Jesus reminds us that the timing of His coming is hidden in the Father’s wisdom. The point is not to calculate or predict, but to live faithfully in readiness. • Unexpectedness: Just as the flood came suddenly in Noah’s day, so will the coming of the Son of Man. The call is to be prepared, not surprised. • Faithful Living: Readiness is not about anxiety or fear, but about living each day as if Christ could return at any moment—with love, mercy, and justice guiding our steps. • Advent Connection: As we prepare to celebrate Christ’s first coming at Bethlehem, we also prepare our hearts for His coming again. Advent holds together memory and hope, past and future, manger and kingdom. Application Stay Awake Spiritually:  Resist the temptation to drift into complacency. Advent is a time to rekindle prayer, scripture reading, and acts of mercy. Live as Witnesses:  Our readiness is seen in how we treat others—with compassion, forgiveness, and generosity. Hopeful Anticipation:  Instead of fear, we wait with joy, knowing that Christ’s coming means the fulfillment of God’s promises. Prayer: Lord Jesus, You come to us in ways we do not expect. In this Advent season, awaken our hearts, that we may live each day in readiness and hope. Teach us to watch not with fear, but with joy, trusting that Your coming brings peace and renewal. Make us faithful servants, so that when You arrive, You will find us living in Your love. Amen.

Jesus answered him, Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise. At Calvary, Jesus is nailed to the cross between two criminals. One mocks Him, demanding proof of His power. The other, broken and humbled, recognizes Jesus’ innocence and turns to Him with a simple plea: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” In that moment, Jesus offers one of the most profound promises in all of Scripture: “Today you will be with me in paradise.” This exchange reminds us of three deep truths: Grace is immediate. The thief had no time to earn righteousness, perform good works, or prove himself. Yet Jesus welcomed him instantly. Faith is simple. The man’s prayer was not eloquent—it was honest. Sometimes the most powerful prayers are simply, “Lord, remember me.” Hope is eternal. Even in the shadow of death, Jesus speaks life. Paradise is not a distant dream but a present reality for those who trust Him. When we feel unworthy, remember the thief: salvation is not about what we’ve done, but about who Jesus is. When we struggle to pray, let our words be simple and sincere. God hears the cry of the heart. When we face suffering or uncertainty, cling to the hope that Jesus’ promise of paradise is secure. Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for the gift of grace that meets us even in our weakness.  Help us to trust You with simple, honest faith, and to rest in the hope of Your promise.  May we live each day with the assurance that You remember us, and that paradise is found in Your presence. Amen.

As Jesus gazes upon the grandeur of the temple, admired for its beauty and permanence, He speaks a sobering truth: “Not one stone will be left upon another.” The disciples, stunned, ask when such things will happen. Jesus doesn’t give a timeline. Instead, He offers a roadmap for faithfulness in the face of chaos. This passage is not just about the destruction of the temple or the trials of the early church—it’s about how we live when the world around us feels unstable. Wars, earthquakes, betrayals, persecution—Jesus names them all. But He also says, “Do not be terrified.” Why? Because these are not signs of God’s absence, but opportunities to testify. In verse 14, Jesus says, “Make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.” This is not a call to passivity, but to trust. The Spirit will speak. Christ will be present. Even when we are hated, even when we are wounded, “not a hair of your head will perish.” This is the paradox of Christian endurance: we may lose everything, yet we are never lost. We may be shaken, but we are not forsaken. The promise is not that suffering will be avoided, but that faith will be sustained—and that in the end, our souls will be secure. Prayer: God of steadfast love, When the world trembles and the future feels uncertain, anchor us in Your presence. Give us courage not to fear, but to witness. When we are weary, strengthen our endurance. When we are betrayed, remind us that You never leave us. May our lives testify to Your faithfulness, And may we gain our souls by trusting in You. Amen.

Paul writes to a community unsettled by rumors and false teachings about the Day of the Lord. Some were convinced it had already come. Others were paralyzed by fear. Into this confusion, Paul speaks clarity: “Let no one deceive you in any way” (v.3). He outlines signs yet to unfold, but more importantly, he reminds the church that deception is not just external—it’s spiritual. The “man of lawlessness” is not merely a figure of history or prophecy, but a symbol of rebellion against truth, a counterfeit of Christ’s authority. This passage is not meant to stir fear, but to anchor faith. Paul’s concern is pastoral: he wants the church to be rooted, not rattled. The mystery of lawlessness is already at work (v.7), but so is the mystery of grace. God restrains evil, even when it seems rampant. And those who love truth will not be abandoned to delusion. The real danger is not missing the signs—it’s losing our love for truth itself. In a world of misinformation, spiritual confusion, and seductive half-truths, Paul’s words are a call to spiritual discernment. We are not called to predict the future, but to remain faithful in the present. The antidote to deception is not fear—it’s formation. We stand firm by immersing ourselves in scripture, in prayer, in community, and in the means of grace. We resist the spirit of lawlessness not by argument, but by abiding in Christ. Prayer Lord Jesus, anchor us in your truth when the world feels unstable. Guard our hearts from fear and our minds from deception. Teach us to love your Word, to seek your face, and to stand firm in grace. May we be a people of clarity, compassion, and courage— not shaken, but steadfast in your Spirit. Amen.